Charade
by Princess Sammi
Summary: *One-shot*: 'She has to convince them that there is nothing wrong. More importantly, she has to convince herself.' Based on Friday's episode.


**Disclaimer: I don't own Coronation Street.**

 **A/N: Very pleased that Carla is back on the street! I'm interested to see how the storyline will play out. Didn't everyone's heart just swell when Roy googled (or rather, voggled ;) ) 'How to donate a kidney?'**

 **Anyway, this is just a wee fic that I came up with on my way to work yesterday.**

 **Happy New Year to you all :)**

* * *

 **Charade**

"Give us a large glass of your best red."

The words trip from her tongue with a surprising ease and for a moment it seems like the old Carla is back.

Good ol' party girl Connor.

The tiny bit of jealously Michelle has secreted upon thinking that her best friend is pregnant dissolves into nothingness and she turns on her heel to retrieve the promised vin rouge, briefly filling Maria in on her way to the kitchen.

 _'Oi, she's just on a diet apparently.'_

Carla doesn't hear them.

Or at least, that's what she tells herself.

She always has been a master at the pretence game.

Even now, she laughs and jokes with her family, all the while feigning the very semblance of normality; painting a perfect picture of health.

It seems to work.

No one notices the exhaustion washing over her features, the gentle waves feeling more like the crashing of a rough sea against the rocks. Nor do they see the momentary flicker in her eyes, the shaking of the very foundations, before the green irises become still once more.

A deep breath steadies her nerves as she glances at the clock.

She can do this.

She just needs to fool them for a little bit longer. She _has_ to convince them that there is nothing wrong.

More importantly, she _has_ to convince herself.

* * *

Roy watches her every move from across the restaurant, silently counting her every breath as though he's afraid she'll drop dead any moment now. He meant what he said earlier: he won't stand by and watch someone else he loves die.

But he can't bring himself to betray Carla's confidence either.

Her circle of trust is already so limited and he knows that if he breaks it now, then he breaks it forever. All he can only offer is his friendship and unwavering support, and hope that somewhere along the line reason and sense will prevail.

She knows that he's right.

After all, Roy Cropper is very rarely wrong.

On paper, it all sounds so simple, but in practice, telling her family is easier said than done.

She just isn't _that_ girl!

She's never been one to play the victim or scream about the unfairness of it all.

She's the strong one.

The one who simply picks up and carries on while the world falls around her ears.

It's been that way for longer than she cares to remember: from her troubled childhood to her string of failed relationships. She's never been one to just lie down and crumble.

Not even when she lost her baby.

Alright, so there had been a brief pull towards the darkness some years before as she had struggled to cope in the aftermath of her rape. A tortured mind in dangerous need of some respite had led to an incredibly stupid moment of weakness on her part. Her life saved only by a fortuitous drunken dial and a knight in a leather jacket.

That's not who she is though.

When life gives Carla Connor lemons, she doesn't lie down and take it. No, she slips into her designer heels, pours a large glass of red, and gets on with whatever shitty hand life deals her.

Until now.

* * *

The party around her is in full swing as the final countdown starts; the air twinkling with dreams and fresh promises of hope for the new year ahead. Meanwhile, all that stares back at her is a bleak future filled with uncertainty.

A future she's not even sure she has!

She sees her life flash before her, the film reel playing out as it lurches from one disaster to another, playing through all the mistakes, all the heartache, and all the bullshit ... and it's too much.

It's too real.

A dizzying hurricane spins in her mind as the walls seem to close in around her.

She can't breathe.

She needs to get out.

She needs ...

Reality hits her quicker than the cold air as she crashes through the Bistro doors, stumbling out onto the empty street.

Almost like her own guardian angel, Roy appears behind her, having seen her flee amongst the celebrations. His movements are slow and steady, akin to someone approaching a deer and trying not to scare it off.

"Oh, this is really happening to me, ain't it?"

The question is aimed more at herself, yet he answers her anyway.

"Yes."

He hovers, desperately wanting to comfort the woman who is breaking down before him, but lacking the social skills to do so. In the end, it's Carla who makes the first move.

She throws his arms around her, steeling a moment of comfort in the embrace as her tears fall. She really does love Roy Cropper. Their friendship is something she never expected, but it's something so precious and she cannot bear to be without it.

"I don't wanna die, Roy."

For the first time since her diagnosis, Carla utters the thought that plagues her mind twenty-four hours a day. All her fears and worries brim to the surface as she struggles, before taking the initial step towards accepting a truth that was previously too painful to process.

She knows she can't pretend anymore.

The charade is over.


End file.
